


Only The Good Die Young

by Fangirlwriting



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is Bad at Feelings, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Forgive Me, Hurt No Comfort, I am so sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlwriting/pseuds/Fangirlwriting
Summary: Roman is entirely sure of his feelings regarding Janus— no, regarding Deceit.  He hates him.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 17
Kudos: 63





	Only The Good Die Young

**Author's Note:**

> So, Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel gives me all the Roceit vibes, and I am so sorry that it does, because it made this horribly angsty thing.

Roman loved his friends.

This was an easy conclusion to come to. Patton was a ball of light, set loose on a world who most certainly did not deserve him. Logan was a grounding source, always there if Roman needed a question answered or a curiosity quenched. Virgil was a source to be reckoned with, and could always be counted on to keep everyone else safe.

Roman liked to think he balanced out the group well. He didn’t have a light of his own, like Patton, or a grounding presence, like Logan, or an eye for the suspicious, like Virgil, but… he had… well, he must have something. Maybe it didn’t even matter, as long as he was happy, and he was. How could he not be happy, with Patton, Logan, and Virgil?

Oh, yes. Deceit.  _ Janus. _ The snake that had now weaseled his way into their lives. Roman did not love him, and this was also an easy conclusion to come to. He did not understand how Patton trusted him. At least he had an ally in that, with Virgil.

Virgil seemed to have been hurt by Deceit (too) at some point in the past. Roman understood that. He wished he could tell Virgil that such was something they both had in common, but Virgil didn’t seem to want to talk about Deceit at all which was… fine. Roman didn’t need to talk about it. It certainly wasn’t building in his chest like something fractured, something sharp like a balloon made of broken glass.

…Nico provided a necessary distraction. It had been such a promising opportunity, and an amazing beginning. Roman could never be grateful enough for Virgil, for what he’d done for him. He wasn’t sure he could do it on his own— he should have been able to. But it was okay. Just for right now, it was okay. Virgil had stepped in where he couldn’t. And the feeling of not having to do everything by himself, of not being alone, not having to fight a serpent by himself… it was nice.

Roman had been spending quite a bit of time with Virgil as of late, and Nico was just another reason to do so.

They’d spend quite a bit of time in the commons watching Disney, or in Roman’s room reading his writing. (Virgil always seemed to find something to love about them, and it made the glass in Roman’s chest a little less jagged.) They didn’t spend as much time in Virgil’s room due to the affects it could have on everyone who wasn’t Virgil himself, but Virgil didn’t seem at all hurt by that fact, so Roman put it out of his mind.

And maybe Virgil didn’t want to talk about Deceit, that was okay. Roman didn’t want to think about Deceit either. He was the villain who’d caused everything that was going wrong right now, why would he want to think about him? Simple answer: he didn’t.

Which is why it was quite annoying when Deceit was suddenly sitting on his bed one day as Roman entered his room.

“Roman,” he said, standing. “I was waiting for you to return.”

“Deceit,” Roman said, standing up taller. “Yes, that was obvious.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to use my name, then?”

“Why should I? You probably lied about it. I bet it isn’t even your real name,” Roman said, walking over to his desk and turning his back to Deceit.

“That seems on brand for me, but I was not lying.”

“Why are you here?” Roman asked, straightening a stack of papers to make himself look busy.

Deceit sighed. “Patton thinks it would be proper that we speak.”

Roman tensed. “Patton,” he said slowly.

“Yes.”

“Get out.”

“With pleasure.”

Roman turned around a couple seconds later to find his room empty once again. One of the shards of broken glass inside his chest grated against another and Roman let out a breath.

His room was peacefully empty for another couple minutes before Deceit appeared once again as Roman was sitting down on his bed, looking more unhappy to be there than before.

“I said get out!” Roman snapped.

“Patton has insisted that we talk,” Deceit replied.

“Tell Patton to mind his own—” Roman pulled in a sharp breath. He closed his eyes and took a much deeper, slower breath, and let it out just as slowly. “Fine. I am sorry that I made fun of your name.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He did feel some regret, although it was hard to separate that from the anger that wouldn’t leave him alone, and the hurt entangled inside of that same anger.

Deceit seemed to know that Roman wasn’t lying, and nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he said. “Roman, I—”

Roman clenched his hand into a fist at his side. “Don’t lie to me,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you apologize, you should mean it.”

Deceit looked for a moment at Roman, and to Roman’s surprise, he looked hesitant. “Well, then I suppose we are done here,” he said, sounding not at all sure, and he vanished again.

Roman looked down at his feet and tried to fight the piercing of the glass in his chest. He pulled in half of a shattered breath, and sunk out, reappearing in Virgil’s room.

Virgil jumped when he appeared and tensed from his spot on his bed. “Shit, Roman, warn a guy next time.”

“Sorry,” Roman said. “Can we— um— do a thing?”

“A thing?” Virgil asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I—” Roman tucked his hands behind his back and squeezed them together. He needed to talk, but Virgil didn’t like talking, but he needed to— something. He needed to do something that got rid of the broken glass threatening to pierce a hole in his lungs. “Nightmare Before Christmas?” he said weakly.

Virgil stood up, his face contorting in concern. “Okay,” he said hesitantly. “Let’s not do it in here, though.”

Roman nodded, reaching out to take Virgil’s offered hands to hold himself up, and then Virgil took them both out to the commons. A large amount of pressure that had been in Roman’s chest dissipated. Oh. Maybe he’d been in Virgil’s room a bit too long, or maybe going into Virgil’s room when he was already upset wasn’t a good idea.

“Are you okay?” Virgil asked lowly, gently taking Roman by the arms, probably still to hold him upright.

Roman pulled backwards. “Better,” he said, trying to get somewhere back to his usual bravado. “Let’s watch a movie!”

…

Deceit was in his room when Roman got back to it that night, with the main difference being his mood feeling much more somber than it had earlier. The main difference on Roman’s side was that he had watched four movies in a row and was too exhausted to see straight. “What do you want?” he groaned.

“I didn’t apologize earlier,” Deceit said.

Roman gave a bitter laugh. “I noticed.”

“I didn’t apologize because I don’t understand why you were upset.”

Roman glared up at him. “You said it in the first place! You had to know it would—”

“I did know,” Deceit said. “That is why I said it. I know that you do not wish to be compared to Remus. What I don’t understand is why.”

“Remus is—” Roman was finding it very hard to not start screaming, to keep from appearing outwardly angry. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, Deceit had to know. “I am  _ trying _ to be  _ good,” _ he got out. “You made that part of your insult too.”

“Indirectly,” Deceit pointed out. “But regardless, I don’t believe that good and bad are such a thing that truly exist,” Deceit said. “Everything is shades of grey, and we are all capable of doing both good and bad.”

“Spare me,” Roman spat, pulling his foldable wall across the front of his wardrobe and grabbing his onesie.

“If such a thing as good and bad did exist,” Deceit said. “I know I would not want to be good.”

“Of course not,” Roman said, rolling his eyes.

“Being good has rules,” Deceit said as if Roman had not spoken. “It has requirements. You can only be good in a certain number of ways. While being ‘bad,’ so to speak, can be done in countless ways.”

“Get to the point,” Roman said, pulling his onesie hood up and stepping out from behind the wall. “Or get out of my room.”

“In that sense, being bad really has more creative options than being good, doesn’t it? There’s a reason it’s called the ‘straight and narrow.’ Try to walk it too long and you’ll destroy yourself, as all good people do.”

“Get. Out.”

Deceit stood and walked forward until he was standing right in front of Roman. “I know what you think of me, Roman, but I do care about you,” he said quietly.

“That’s reassuring,” Roman said through gritted teeth, leaning closer.

“If I did hurt you, for a reason that I do not understand, then… I am sorry.”

“Out!” Roman snapped, pointing towards the door. When Deceit didn’t move immediately, Roman leaned further forward, to do what he wasn’t quite sure, but Deceit vanished before could get there, and Roman made up the empty space by walking forward and collapsing onto his bed, burying his head in his pillow.

_ Pathetic, _ hissed a cruel voice in his head that sounded too much like a serpent.  _ Get up. _

Roman tried his best to ignore the voice and the headache forming behind his eyes.

He must have managed to do so long enough that he fell asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to pounding on his door and Patton calling him for breakfast.

At least breakfast was still somewhat normal. No serpents invading from the other side of the mindscape. Things were still a little tense, but not as much as they definitely would be.

Patton was talking very happily about Nico. He was on Roman’s mind too, because of course he was! Love! Thomas could fall in love! And love was the greatest thing in the world!

Roman knew this. Love of all kinds was amazing. Familial love was fabulous. As already mentioned, he loved his friends, so much. He loved Thomas. Thomas loved his friends, and Roman loved Thomas’ friends. And when Thomas was  _ in _ love, oh boy. That was amazing. Butterflies in the stomach, tingles in the hands and heart, a general feeling of hope that infected  _ everything. _ Love, love love. He could never get enough of it.

And holy cow, if Nico wasn’t one that you could love. He was sweet, and kind, and charming, and  _ so _ cute. Patton, Roman, and even Virgil all not being able to shut up about him proved that Thomas clearly felt something for him.

What was left of Roman’s bad mood from yesterday improved quite a bit during the breakfast conversation about Nico. Even Logan seemed to be smiling a little bit, which was so rare for him Roman thought for a second he was still dreaming.

Roman found himself dancing through the hallways after breakfast, and he all but hopped into his room to head to his desk.

Virgil appeared after a couple hours to drag Roman out to do something other than write, as had been a habit of his lately. They had planned an adventure in the imagination today (as long as it wasn’t too dangerous, for Virgil’s sake), which would later be followed by Roman making them both a batch of cookies and hot chocolate (the adventure was going to take place in the snow).

On the way to the imagination, Roman spotted Patton and Deceit talking in the kitchen, and he stalled for a moment as he looked at them. Deceit turned to look at him, and Roman blinked a couple times, trying to come up with something to say, when Virgil seemed to realize he was hesitating and grabbed his arm to pull them both ahead.

The snowy forest in the imagination was pretty lifelike, Roman thought. He’d worked hard on it. Virgil was in fact looking down at it with a smile that he then reflected back at Roman. Roman snapped his fingers, and the coats he’d designed for each of them appeared, and then he gestured in explanation towards the castle in the distance where he had created an art gallery with art that they would both love. The adventure portion came with the challenges they would have to face on the way.

They started through the forest as Virgil was still looking around. “So, why snow?” he asked.

“Aesthetic,” Roman answered easily. “It looks pretty when the sunlight reflects off of it.”

“Well, I will not deny that,” Virgil admitted. He was about to say something else when they were met with their first challenge: an ice dragon.

Virgil yelped in surprise and darted behind Roman. “What the fuck, Princey, I thought you said we weren’t gonna have to fight anything?!”

“We aren’t,” Roman said, pulling Virgil’s hands off his shoulders. “He’s just going to ask riddles.”

“Oh.” Virgil climbed down the rest of the way on his own. “Then why the ice dragon?”

“It fits the theme! I have a winter thing going here, Virgil!”

“Okay, I’m just saying—”

“I was known to Greek philosophers a thousand years ago,” the ice dragon cut off. “I have numbers all in a line, and I can tell you if rain will turn to snow. What am I?”

“Do you know the answer?” Virgil asked Roman.

“Well yes, but where’s the fun in me answering?”

Virgil groaned and turned back to face the dragon. “Uh… weather report?”

“Close,” Roman said, bouncing a little on his feet.

Virgil thought for a minute. “Thermometer?”

The dragon, in response, spread it’s wings and took to the air, revealing a bridge it was guarding that let them pass.

“Sweet,” Virgil said, and they both started across the bridge, which spanned the chasm below it. They walked for a little and talked until they came to a fork in the road.

“Okay, so the paths meet up again,” Roman explained. “You have to take the right path, I take the left, and whoever makes it to the meetup point first wins.”

“Wha— but you know all the answers! How is that fair?”

“My path doesn’t have any puzzles, it’s just longer,” Roman said. “Plus, that’s what makes it fun!” He danced off towards the left path, grinning at Virgil as he went.

Virgil groaned even as he set his brow in determination started into the other path.

Roman took a moment to look around at the beautiful scenery as he walked along the path. The point wasn’t really to win, after all (naturally he would do that anyway). He just wanted to show Virgil a good time more than anything else.

The trees were covered in a light layer of frost, and a snow was gently falling. You could hear the sound of forest animals nearby, and winter birds whistling. The whole scene had been made with peace in mind, with sounds that should calm Virgil down if needed. And neither of them would get cold, as both of the coats Roman had made for them were designed to keep them the right temperature, and also sparkled to provide light if nighttime would happen to fall.

“You know Virgil well. He’ll like the challenge with the stormclouds.”

Roman whirled around. “How did you get in here?!” he snapped, stepping forward to glare at Deceit.

“The door isn’t locked,” Deceit said, raising an eyebrow.

Roman scowled and crossed his arms. “Get out. I’m supposed to be having fun with Virgil. Why do you keep trying to bother me?”

Deceit didn’t reply for long enough that Roman just whirled around and started up the path again. Deceit fell into step beside him, and Roman turned to glare at him again. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“You know,” Deceit said slowly. “It wasn’t all flattery.”

“What wasn’t?”

“When I told you I didn’t need to flatter you anymore. I was trying to do so, but it wasn’t all rehearsed. I’m just clarifying.”

Roman said nothing for a moment. “Why do you feel the need to clarify?” he asked finally, trying not to grit his teeth.

“I’m trying to make amends for the fact that I apparently hurt you. Is that not what you want?”

“Since when have you cared,” Roman said. “What I want?”

“You would be surprised. What you want is often what Thomas wants, after all,” Deceit mused. “Your job is to work for Thomas’ dreams and goals.”

“Then why not just tell me that?” Roman asked. “Why try and manipulate me with praise and empty flattery?”

“It wasn’t all flattery.”

“Yes it was,” Roman decided.

Deceit looked at him, and for a moment Roman almost thought he saw a flash of regret cross his face. It must have been a trick of the light.

“In the beginning it was,” Deceit admitted. “But it didn’t stay that way. You are… easy… to care for, Roman.”

“Easy to care for,” Roman murmured. “Great. Thanks. That’s all I’ve ever wanted was to be easy to care for.”

Deceit stopped, and despite himself, Roman followed suit. He turned and faced Deceit.

“What do you want, Roman?” he asked.

“Well I just told you, didn’t I,” Roman said sarcastically, narrowing his eyes. “I want to be easy to care for.”

“That can have numerous meanings,” Deceit said, taking a step forward. Roman took a step back.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you want to be happy, Roman? Or do you want more than that?” Deceit took another step forward.

Roman faltered. “What else is there?”

“Parades, lights, the love of the world.” Deceit started moving forward more than one step at a time, and stopped right in front of Roman.

“I want those things in order to make me happy. To make Thomas happy.”

“I see. And is that all you want?”

Roman stared in bafflement. “What else is there?” he repeated.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Who you are. What you want. How far you’re willing to reach. How far you  _ can _ reach.” Deceit leaned forward, and whispered, softly, “What you’re willing to lose.”

“What does that mean?”

Deceit leaned forward again, and his eyes flicked downwards. Roman would have stepped back if he didn’t feel frozen.

“Deceit,” Roman croaked. “What does that mean?”

“You have to be careful with what you give up,” Deceit whispered, not looking back up. “It’s easy to regret it later on.”

“Stop speaking in riddles and tell me what you  _ mean.” _

“Funny, and here I thought you liked riddles,” Deceit said. “You made a whole slew of them for Virgil.”

“Probably would have worked better for Logan,” Roman said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“You’re probably right,” Deceit said. He finally looked up again. “I think I gave up the wrong thing,” he whispered.

“What?”

Deceit leaned forward a little more and brushed his lips gently against Roman’s. Ah. So this is what he meant by easy to care for. Roman pulled back just by centimeters and let out a shaky breath. He was briefly caught up in a moment of wanting to vanish them both back into his bedroom and slam Janus against the wall and kiss him again and again and—

“You can’t do that,” Roman whispered. “Janus—”

Janus leaned back immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You can’t do that,” Roman said, finally taking a step back. “You can’t—”

Janus’ brow furrowed. “Now I’m thinking you’re referring to something else,” he said.

Roman took another step back, and then another. “You can’t…  _ do that,” _ he said. “You can’t— you can’t show up with all your flattery and your flirting and make me fall in love with you and then— and then poke and prod at me until I do what you want and then say that you— that you gave up the wrong thing! You can’t do that!”

Roman hunched over and dug his hands into his hair. “You can’t do that,” he whispered. “It’s not fair.”

“I know that,” Janus said softly. “I do.”

“Then why are you here?” Roman snapped, glaring up at him.

Janus looked torn. “I don’t know,” he said finally.

Roman wiped at the tears in the corners of his eyes before they could escape. “Then leave,” he said. “I was trying to have a pleasant afternoon with Virgil before you came and ruined it.”

He turned around again and walked on for a couple minutes in silence. He looked behind him once, and Janus was no longer there. Roman closed his eyes and pulled in a shaky breath while the jagged pieces of glass pressed into his lungs. Roman blinked tears away and turned back to the path again. Virgil was most likely through the other one by this point. He had most likely lost.

…

Roman went to Janus’ room that night for once, instead of the other way around. The room was still in the other side of the mindscape, and he leaned against it for almost five minutes trying to make a decision, before finally Janus made it for him by opening the door and caused Roman to fall backwards into him.

Janus made a small noise of surprise and stepped back, and Roman caught himself on the doorframe.

“Roman,” Janus said in surprise. “I was just going to— I didn’t think you would come here tonight.”

“What do you want?” Roman asked, stepping forward until he backed them both into Janus’ room and shut the door behind them. “Are you just trying to use me again?”

Janus shook his head slowly.

“Then what do you want?”

“I thought I had answered that already,” Janus murmured. “I want to make up for hurting you. I think I gave up the wrong thing.”

“Yeah, except you didn’t give up  _ anything!” _ Roman snapped. “I was the one who did all of that. I gave up my friends, whom I  _ love, _ to side with you, and then they all got mad at me. So I tried to take their side again, and then you got mad at me. And that felt worse, that felt worse because you were the only one who’d actually told me you love me in any way since— since— but you lied! You  _ lied! _ You had to be lying,” Roman ended the sentence weakly, trying and failing at the same time to stay firm. “Because who cares about me? Who cares about what I want? I— I just want— I want—” Roman leaned back against the door again.

“What do you want, Roman?” Janus asked softly.

Roman looked up at Janus, trying to breathe through the lump in his throat and the broken glass in his chest. “I want to be  _ good,” _ he choked out.

A dozen emotions flashed across Janus’ face before he finally settled on determination. “Well, then that is the main difference between us, Roman,” Janus said firmly and still softly at the same time. “Because I want to be free.”

The pieces of glass were pushing into his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe, they were going to kill him—

“I won’t stay,” Janus said. “You have made it clear that you do not want my presence, and I will not hurt you any longer. Roman,” Janus looked down. “I am sorry.” With that, he sunk out, and left Roman alone in the room.

Roman couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and the broken glass was poking into his lungs, it was hurting, it hurt so much.

Love wasn’t supposed to hurt. Thomas and Nico didn’t hurt. That was sparkling, hopeful and bright. This couldn’t be love. Love wasn’t jagged, didn’t poke and pierce and bleed, and dear god, it hurt, it  _ hurt, _ make it stop hurting, this was going to kill him!

Roman dropped to the ground and pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. Now he couldn’t even get love right, he really was a useless romantic side, wasn’t he?

Roman buried his head in his knees and disappeared, ending up back in his room. The broken glass inside of him was cutting through his chest now, but it wasn’t going to stop, so why should he?

It hurt, it hurt, it  _ hurt, _ but Janus was there, and he was poison, he was a snake, and Roman was in love with him.

_ That's the price you pay for wanting to be good. _


End file.
